The Best Years of our Lives, right?
by La Salle De Bain
Summary: [AU] College is supposed to be COOL...
1. the peanut gallery

**A/N**: I am actually starting a chapter fic. Let's see how far this gets me. This story isn't **slash**, by the way--I just rated it M because there's some suggestive scenes and cuss words and stuff...Enjoy. :3

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_College was supposed to be COOL, with its late night parties where people got completely **wasted** and **laid**. You were supposed to stay up late, pretending you were studying when you were really masturbating to **Playboy**. You were supposed to streak down the girl's dorm, barking sexist profanities. You were **supposed** to have a hell of a time._

Well, at least that's what Roxas thought.

The feminine boy gleefully skipped down the dorm hall, a messenger bag slung over his narrow shoulders. Ah, yes; the beauty of YOUTH. His fifty-mile thick glasses lens magnified his eyes until the poor boy looked like something of a chameleon. Some would call his overbite absolutely adorable (his family, mainly, and even THEY had their doubts), but anyone with eyes could see it was just creepy as hell. His slacks were nearly up to his plank-flat chest, shoes shined with the most gourmet juice box-backwashed spit imaginable.

In short, if you were to look up a cross between the words "dork" and "fag," you'd see that toothy grin of his bearing its way through your **soul**.

He looked down at the note card in his hand. _Room 4C…4C…Hm…_Roxas looked from left to right, idly avoiding the cupcake being slung in his direction; he shrugged. _Not here._

Roxas, you see, was a STAR STUDENT. Not only was he Student Council President in high school, he was the Chess Club's all-star player, among the least. How more hardcore could you get? He passed his last year in high school with flying colors, colleges practically giving him lap dances to get him to join them. But our dear boy Roxas was picky (hell, he didn't eat his daily helping of steamed broccoli unless it was cooked to perfection); in fact, it took him a good three weeks to decide what university to go with. The school had a melodic name that made Roxas beam upon its utterance: Ohtori Academy.

After a moment's struggle, Roxas reached his destination: Room 4C. He stared at his reflection on the gold-plated doorknob, straightening his red bowtie. He gulped. _A roommate…Gee, I hope it's a chick…!_

Shaking, Roxas grasped said doorknob, turning it slowly. With another mucus-engulfed heave, he swung the door open, taking a step inside.

Roxas looked around; he wasn't too fond of the interior decoration—everything was the color of **shit**, or as Roxas called it, "dung." He shut the door behind him, politely slipping his shoes off and placing them next to the doormat.

Something was emitting a loud…**screeching** sound—loud noises were a bitch to Roxas's sinuses. He followed the shrill buzzing into the living room, where he could see that it was just the TV. Roxas sighed, until noting the mane of red hair sticking out from the couch (which had its back to him) before him.

Roxas beamed; he tiptoed over, scurrying to one of the armrests. He noticed a bare foot lying a few inches away. _Such pretty feet…_Roxas peaked over the edge of the sofa, his eyes nearly bursting from their sockets.

On the couch was a man—early twenties, maybe—sprawled out, baring all there was to bear. He didn't seem to realize he wasn't alone, and continued gazing lifelessly at his Oprah reruns. Roxas's eyes went from the redhead's diamond tattoos, to his cock, to the diamond tattoo ON his cock, to his exposed ribs and muscular thighs, and back again.

"Geez Louise…!"

The figure looked up, arching an eyebrow. "Huh? Was the door open or somethin'?"

"U-uh…" Roxas blinked, trying his best to stay fixated on the emerald green slits the nudist before him called **eyes**. "W-w-well…I am Roxas Randal Rudy Regan Roop XII."

"Ur…hello then, Mr. Rudy. What brings you here—" Suddenly, the redhead bolted up, wearing the stupidest grin. "Hey; did Marluxia send ya? Do you have the _stash_?"

It was Roxas's turn to be confused. "_Stash?_"

The man sighed, resuming his reclined position. "…Shit; well, then, Mr. Rudy—you must be my roommate. Whoop-dee-_fucking_-doo…"

"P-p-please," Roxas gulped, "call me Roxas." The blonde assumed it was the drugs talking—or _lack_ of drugs, anyway. Unless, by "STASH," he meant something else…

No. It seemed fitting.

Roxas's roommate held up a hand, staring at the glowing television set. "Axel."

"Well, Axel," Roxas continued, twiddling his thumbs. "Is there a reason that you're…in the…"—he switched to a whisper, as though uttering a naughty word—"…_nude?_"

"Nah." Axel reached over to the coffee table lazily, snatching up his beer can; he took a swig.

"Let me **rephrase** that." Roxas cleared his throat, obviously disturbed. "Is there a reason why you're NOT wearing clothes…?"

Axel took another slurp. "Clothes are lame." Snorting, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I don't like 'em."

Roxas slapped himself. _You have GOT to be kidding me…_It may have not seemed like it, but even **Roxas** was interested in clothes; he SQUEALED every time his mother brought him home a fresh, pine-scented plaid button-up, with matching khakis. Roxas, again, assumed Axel was a rebel, deciding not to go any further than that.

"And plus," Axel retorted, "you seem kinda on the fruity side. You should be _grateful_ of all this one-on-one action you're gettin'. I mean, **dicks** don't grow on **trees**, man."

Roxas let out a nasally gasp. "Why, I _never_—!"

A smirk spread across Axel's face. "Oh, my, my…" His attention turned to the hallway apparently leading to the rooms. "_Speaking_ of fruit…" Standing there was a pouting man, perhaps the same age as Axel, with the most disgusting—**revolting **mop of hair Roxas had ever seen. He released a…_purple_ aura—one very prissy and girly, and impeccably _queer_.

"Who said 'dick'?" the man chirped.

"Stop being a fag for one second and come over here," Axel muttered.

"But WHO said it?"

"Me! Okay? Get your bruised, STD-dispenser of an ass over here." The man trotted over. "Okay then," Axel went on, "we've got that new roommate you signed us up for."

"This is…_him_?" His brown eyes were like saucers. "He's…he's…!"

"Yeah, not much; I know you wanted some hot ass, but just suck it up and take it like a man—you know, like you usually do during your sex-sessions with Zexion—"

"ADORABLE!"

"…Oh."

The man leaped over, shaking Roxas's hand vigorously. "I'm Demyx Crawburn—"

"More like **ASS**-burn…" Axel mumbled.

Demyx ignored him. "Please call me…uh, Demyx! Unless, y'know, if you wanna give me a nickname; 'cause I really, really like Cher, and like, I've been trying to get that nickname for me to catch on, so, uh…" He clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth. "Yeah—a name like CHER would be absolutely **fabulous**. "

"I'm Roxas Randal Rudy Re—"

"HELLO THERE, ROXAS."

"_Ugh_…"

Roxas felt unbelievably smothered; this was the most attention he'd gotten in his life, with Axel glaring at him, and Demyx squealing and saying his name in a singsong voice. Oh, great; his roommates consisted of a lazy, nudist stoner and a flamboyant gay. And he was a dork—so a **fag**, a **druggie**, and a **dweeb**, all together in one musty, shit-colored dorm room.

Fuck—they could start their own **sitcom**…

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**A/N**: This is gonna be a bumpy ride. :'D 


	2. FUNeral

**A/N**: Thanks for the support, guys. :3 This chapter is a lot more...well, it's less crackful than chapter one. And it's about TIME I updated. D: It's been like, what, a month? That's long for someone my age. o.o;; Enjoy!

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As Roxas stood there stupidly, Axel waddled off, followed by the prancing Demyx. _How overwhelming…_Roxas trotted to the kitchen, plopping onto the table. How could such a prestigious academy allow such…**vermin**—vermin referring to those "unique" characters Axel and Demyx. They had to be smart, meaning polar opposites of what they were right now. 

But Roxas's parents always told him that genius came in the oddest packages…

Roxas was so engrossed in his thoughts; he didn't notice the sluggish Axel joining him at the table. Thankfully, he had a crusty, grey sweatshirt and jogging pants slapped on his delicate figure. "Yo."

Roxas gave him a tired stare. "Hey."

"You seem to be in a crummy mood…Did'ja know the school had its own spa? Yeah; Demyx and his homo posse practically LIVE there…" He lazily twirled a strand of his fire-colored hair, puckering his lips; a Demyx imitation. Roxas raised an eyebrow—attempt **failed**.

The redhead went on. "Anyway, they give messages and stuff. From what Lux tells me, it's better than sex; the messages, I mean." Axel playfully jabbed the blonde in the arm. "But wouldn't wanna spoil the surprise for you, eh?"

Roxas scoffed at Axel's other attempt to crack a joke. He dug a hand into one of his slack pockets, prying out a crumpled pamphlet of the school's campus. "Hmpf…I'm guessing Lux is Marluxia." He cracked the pamphlet open. "I sure hope you're not hiding another roommate from me."

Axel seemed fixated at the flyer Roxas was currently scanning through. "N-no…Of course not." He raised a thin eyebrow.

"Good then." Roxas flipped another page.

"…What are you doing?"

"Seeing where I can find this _spa_ you speak of…I don't see it here on the map, actually. Mind pointing it out for me?"

When Axel didn't reply, Roxas looked up at him over his speaks. The redhead looked flabbergasted, mouth agape.

"Is something wrong?" Roxas hiffed.

"Why the fuck are you reading a map for Ohtori Academy?" Axel snorted. "That place is like, fifty miles away!"

Roxas lowered the flyer. "**What** are you blabbering about?" He was getting irritated now.

"_HELLO_?" Axel raised his arms to add emphasis. "You're in Ohtori UNIVERSITY, you fucking **moron**. Jesus Christ—those freaking PLATES you've got on your NOSE aren't really accomplishing what they're supposed to be fucking accomplishing."

Roxas ripped his messenger bag from his shoulder, forcefully dropping it onto the table. His arm was elbow-deep inside when he pulled out his college acceptance letter. Shivering, he read; "Dear Roxas…_dadada_…you've just been accepted into the _FAMOUS OHTORI UNIVERSITY; PLEASE ENJOY YOUR STAY_." He looked at the now amused Axel with twisted eyes, spitting; "So what does this **MEAN**? I'm not in the oh-so famous, genius-creating **OHTORI ACADEMY**?"

Axel snorted back a laugh. "That's _exactly_ what it means."

Roxas calmed down a little, regaining his breath. "B-but…what's _this_ college like…? Is it…_smart_? Have any famous scientists ever stayed here? What's it like here?"

"Well…_uh_…" Axel scratched the back of his head. His arms rested firmly on the table as he gazed squarely at Roxas. "Have you ever heard of Harry Potter?"

Roxas felt a little insulted. "Well, _yeah_, who hasn't?"

"Metaphorically speaking," Axel continued (Roxas twitched, trying to comprehend how Axel managed to sputter such a word without his brain collapsing onto itself), "this school is _their_ school's Hufflepuff."

The blonde let his forehead collide with the apple-shaped placemat. "_Fuck_."

Axel bit his lip. "Urm…but that doesn't mean you're going to learn any less at this school than at that academy. I mean, like…ugh…"

"No wonder," Roxas's muffled voice growled. "No rightful academy would permit such disgusting **muck** into it." Roxas looked up, chin now resting on the table; his sky blue eyes morphed into a red-hot glare.

"Hey, hey now!" Axel blurted out, wincing. "Personal attacks won't really like, '_teleport_'"— he made quotation marks with his fingers— "you fifty miles away."

"…I am SO suing."

"_What_?"

"Hey, what're you guys talkin' about?"

Both Roxas and Axel's eyes landed on Demyx, who stood before them. A mink bath towel was wrapped around his bony shoulder; a five-minute shower. But then again, Demyx must've been accustomed to "quick and easy jobs."

"**Poindexter** here applied for the wrong college," Axel huffed, stabbing a thumb in Roxas's direction. Demyx only chuckled.

"And what's so funny about THAT?" Roxas grumbled.

"Nah; it's just déjà vu—this _viper_ sittin' with ya went through the same thing."

"Shut up," muttered Axel, crossing his arms.

"Well, it's _true_! You didn't even wanna go here!" Demyx turned to Roxas. "Hey, did you know he wanted to be a doctor?"

Roxas nearly swallowed his tongue. "A…doctor?"

"Uh-huh! He wanted to get _inside_ of people and what not." Demyx wiggled his fingers, grossed out. "It's still pretty disgusting, which is why I stuck with the good old-fashioned _hair_-stylist…But, you know…" Roxas looked up, blinking. "This place grew on Axel; maybe it can grow on you, too."

"…Well, maybe."

"Good." Demyx took his towel and laid it on the counter. "Come with me, Roxas."

"What? To _where_?"

"Just get on your shoes." The brunette kneeled down, fishing a shoebox from a cupboard. "You'll see." He got to his feet, turning to Axel. "Hey, _you_ might want to come along, too."

Demyx was quite…submissive. But given the current situation, being "submissive" was quite disturbing. Roxas and Axel did what they were told, following Demyx (and the shoebox) to the front of the dorm. It was vacant and the most blinding _green_ imaginable.

Demyx got to his knees, his perfectly manicured nails morphing into shovels—he was digging. When the hole reached his liking, he dropped the shoebox in without the lid.

"Okay, men," he said, standing up. "Observe the box."

And so, they observed.

"And what's THIS shit all about?" Axel blurted out.

"We must BURY all the negative vibes and everything you THINK you want…because from now on, they're _dead_; so put 'em in—ALL of 'em."

Axel sighed hesitantly, but Roxas…Roxas actually though about it. He wanted to work for NASA before, but now? He didn't seem up for it. Well, maybe later, but DEFINITELY not now. He just wanted to get out of there in one piece.

He wrote himself a mental sticky note: _My new dream is to get out of college as peacefully as possible._

"You both ready?" Demyx asked; Axel and Roxas nodded. "Okay then…And so…since all of our hopes and dreams and desires of the past have passed on…that gives room for more—a lot more. So may they rest in peace…Amen."

"Amen," the pair muttered.

Demyx popped the top back on the shoebox, and proceeded filling the hole with excess dirt. As strange as it was, Roxas couldn't help but feel a tug on his little heart as the box disappeared under the soil. Demyx was so Goddamn simple-minded; it was like he actually _thought_ something other than _air_ was in that shoebox.

_Ack—another tug…_

When the box was fully one with Earth, and Demyx was brushing himself off, Roxas bit his lip to refrain the sudden downpour coming on. He couldn't put the feeling into words, but it was like…

…_it was a **funeral** for my **sanity**._

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**A/N**: Demyx seems like the spiritual type. Well, in _my _opinion, anyway. He's probably the sanest, most real Organization member. He just wants to live life to its fullest, without getting his ass pounded by some bi-curious weirdo with some bigass key thing. And I hope to find more inspiration for this fic soon_—_I bought the High School Musical soundtrack a few days ago (...am I the only person over twelve who HAS?), and ideas have basically been spilling outta my gut. SO THANK YOU, HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL SOUNDTRACK.

Anyway, feedback is fun. :D


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